The Man Who Made Darth Vader Laugh
by JustInunotaisho
Summary: I wondered what would happen to Celia Durasha once she left the Kuari Princess in “A Certain Point of View” in Tales From the Empire. Also, I felt that Star Wars needed a dashing pirate character. Furthermore, HK47 needed a minor role 4,000 years later. [
1. Part 1

Rating: T

Genre: Star Wars

Type: Adventure/Romance/Angst

Disclaimer: With apologies to Charlene Newcomb and fervent assertions that I don't own Star Wars or KOTOR

Summary: I wondered what would happen to Celia Durasha once she left the Kuari Princess in "A Certain Point of View" in Tales From the Empire. Also, I felt that Star Wars needed a dashing pirate character. Furthermore, HK-47 needed a sequel, I thought. Only trouble is, he doesn't remember anything…

The Man Who Made Darth Vader Laugh

The Maelstrom Nebula wafted around the stolen robo barge, caressing it with tendrils of red gas. Yet, like the fingers of a spirit, it could not change its path or reach out to comfort the lone pilot inside.

Brushing her red locks out her emerald green eyes and sniffing slightly, Celia Durasha watched tiredly, the events of the last fifteen hours weighing too heavily upon her to sleep. She remembered the coldness of Adion's eyes as he shot down Kaileel, the security chief of the _Kuari Princess_ and her best friend. She recalled the way she had earlier stabbed one of Adion's stormtrooper escorts with the knife Raine gave her so long ago. Her hands trembled, remembering the blood that had flowed from the shrieking soldier's neck onto her small hands. Still, she had no regrets – Raine had been killed by rebels, but Kaileel was her friend. No matter that he had stolen blasters from the _'Princess_ to give to the rebels on Mantooine. In her mind, his gentle dark eyes and smiling face appeared, his thickly accented voice calling her "dear crimson" as he always did. She could not hate him.

Celia struggled to remember him that way and not as she had left him in the docking bay, his eyes empty, a blaster hole still smoking in his barrel-like chest. The Kabieroun had always been a gentle giant and to see him shot down was almost too much for her to bear. Blinking away sudden tears, she angrily slammed her hand on the seat next to her and checked the sensors, knowing that they would tell her nothing. The Maelstrom Nebula blocked all sensor scans and made communication difficult. She started to wonder if the trajectory she had taken away from the _Princess _would cause her to become lost. There was really no way to tell, now. At the time of her escape, her sole thought was to get away as fast as possible in case of Adion drumming up a pursuit. Now, she was alone. Throwing aside her panic and calling upon her navigational skills, Celia began to punch coordinates into the computer, manually computing the route based on the _Princess'_s travel path when she saw it last. Thankfully, the tedious task took her mind off her recent experiences. With time, she knew, she would be out of this place. What she would do then, she didn't know.

A voice, deep and rich, raised itself in song and echoed throughout the small ship. HK-47, or Hakky as his master called him, turned his audio receptors down to their minimum levels, wondering why organics had vocal cords that suited them well in their life but purposely misused them by imitating an injured wookiee pup, or singing as Imril insisted on calling it. The assassin droid ran the sonic cleaner slowly over the floor of the cargo hold/living quarters of the ship he and his master called home. The _Dustman_ was a heavily modified starcraft, a small freighter but with the nimbleness and speed of a snub fighter. It had four Mon Calamari engines networked together with smaller Kuat Mark III maneuvering jets around the perimeter of the ship, two linked quad lasers with 360 rotation on the tail, four hidden laser cannons on the main body and two proton missile launchers. Not one to court chance for too long, the master had also installed redundant shield systems and a landing claw, along with a small tractor beam. Any left over room was converted into cargo hold space. The master made his bed wherever there was an open space to lay his bedroll or up in the cockpit.

Though he took as long as possible cleaning the hold, Imril was still not done singing when Hakky finished and the droid was forced to climb the ladder to the cockpit, bringing him closer to the sounds of an old Twi'lek drinking ballad. Imril D'Var was sprawled in his leather pilot chair, propping one dewback leather boot carelessly on the pilot console. A bottle of fine Coruscant brandy was in his hand and he took periodic gulps from it. Mentally, Hakky calculated that his master was 2.13 above his normal inebriation levels. He wondered, not for the first time, at the advisability of being on a ship with a drunk pilot. Still, his frequent worrying always proved wrong. Imril time and time again proved to be the definition of 'dumb luck,' and not just in the matters of drinking and piloting. Some of their most successful escapades had started because of Imril being at the wrong place at the right time or vice versa. Hakky often felt that, given a chance at freedom, he would continue to follow Imril just out of curiosity.

Imril leaned back in the chair and stared back at Hakky from an upside down position, his brow furrowing. "Hakky? Why're you standin' on the ceiling?" he asked. "Guess I've been drinkin' too much." The Corellian took another gulp from his bottle absently. "Anyway, how's the hold? What've we still got down there? Anything that can be saved for spare cash in case this doesn't come off as planned?"

"Reassurance: Do not worry, Master. The cases and crates we scavenged from the last shipwreck can be magnetically attached to the deck and will not be pulled out by the decompression. Hypothesis: By my calculations, I believe we can hold up to four tons of the Maelstrom gas."

"Excellent. Compressed, that would equal about forty kilograms in solid form."

One of the things that baffled Hakky was the way a rational thought could surface in his master's mind even when he had been consuming large quantities of alcohol. "Affirmation: Yes, master." He was about to say something further when suddenly, out of the mists of the Maelstrom in front of the viewport, a large mass appeared.

In one motion, Imril swore, straightened up and engaged the full stop. Despite his quick action, the forward momentum still caused the _Dustman_ to bump violently into the object which Hakky was now able to identify as a blocky robo barge, the kind used to transport passengers to orbiting cruise ships.

The impact came unexpectedly. Celia had finally figured out where she was going and fed the information into the autopilot. She stood up to stretch, feeling the cramp in her back from bending over the controls, when the barge jerked without warning. The sudden movement upset her balance and she fell, slamming her head against the controls and knocking herself unconscious.

Swearing colorfully in languages that Hakky did not know, Imril brought up the damage report. He cheered up a bit when he realized that the lower shields had taken the brunt of the damage, knocking them down to thirty percent. Looks like his luck was still holding out. "Blasted cruise ships," he growled, the incident driving the drink from his brain. "Always dropping junk around while passing through." On the side of the barge, he recognized the colors of the Kuari Cruise Line. At this close proximity, the sensors detected that it was still functional and moving in a course perpendicular to the _Dustman_'s. Imril flipped on the communications and hailed the vessel. The answer was static. "Either they're giving us the silent treatment, which is unlikely, or there's no one on board."

"It is a robo barge, after all, sir," agreed Hakky. "Still, I wonder why the Kuari Cruise Line abandoned it here after setting in a course. Why not wait until they reached port and sold it?"

"Unless…" Imril pulled out a blaster and checked the charge. "They didn't. Maybe someone on the cruise vessel stole it? If that's true, then the moment the cruise ship's out of the Maelstrom, the captain's going to send out a report to the company and within an hour or two, the company will have posted a bounty." The Corellian maneuvered his ship closer to the barge, preparing to dock. "Which, my dear Hakky, we shall be only to happy to claim, having snatched the ship thief and found the barge." Deftly, he positioned the ship over the other and engaged the docking clamps. He exited the cockpit, sliding down the ladder with practiced ease to the hold. Striding over to a wall, he banged on a certain part and pulled open the jarred panel. From the secret compartment, he took a small device about the size of a flash-heater, one of his most prized possessions: an adaptable slave circuit. The only one of its kind, he had stolen it from a hidden robotics lab during a run in with Hapan pirates. With this attached to the ships computer of any vessel, he could controller it from the cockpit of the_ Dustman_ quite easily.

Tucking it into his belt, the Corellian drew one of his blasters and opened the docking hatch. Raising his blaster to eye level, he slowly moved into the barge, eyes alert for any sign of life. The passenger area of the barge was empty, the lights dimmed and the windows tinted. He made his way up to the cockpit area, palming the door switch and stepping back as the door slid open. What he saw made his heart skip a beat and his lips move in a foul oath. Holstering his weapon, Imril took out his comlink. "Hakky? We've got a problem. And it's got red hair."

A/N: R&R, constructive criticism please.


	2. Part 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Celia awoke to the sound of finely tuned engines. She opened her eyes and blinked once. The Ithorian smiled insanely, a huge grin painted where some deranged artist imagined its mouth should be. He was a garish green, unlike the purple and also madly grinning Rodian next to him. Below them were the words **Mensaad and Lurze: Galaxy's Best Comedians**. Blinking once more, she realized she was lying on her side on a bed roll surrounded by an odd assortment of packing containers, some brightly painted like the ones she had seen. She sat up, wincing as her aching head reminded her what she had been doing to warrant its complaint. The cargo hold was definitely not the robo barge she had passed out in.

Sudden footsteps made her stand up and reach for her blaster. Panicking when she realized her holster was empty, she cast about looking for something to use as a weapon. Before she could find something, however, a man slid down the ladder at the other end of the hold and turned around. He was tall, with long hair, a roguish beard and moustache and mischievous blue eyes. The dramatic manner in which he carried himself suggested an adventurous eccentricity, though his clothes were cut simply, a black leather pilot's jacket over a white tunic and black pants of durable material. Judging by the ancient-looking long vibroblade he had sheathed in his belt and the silver hoop earrings, he obviously fancied himself a pirate.

When he spoke, his accent definitely placed him as a Corellian and his resonant voice reminded her of the handsome holovid actor she had had a crush on when she was young. "Well, Lieutenant, you're up and about, I see. Allow me to introduce myself," he offered, making a flamboyant bow. "I am Captain Imril V'Dar of the freighter _Dustman_ upon which we are currently holding our conversation. While your uniform marks you as Lieutenant Navigator of the _Kuari Princess_, I am at a loss and a disadvantage as to your name."

Taken aback by his wordiness, Celia gaped at him for a moment, then managed. "Uh, yes. I'm Celia Durasha, formerly of the _Kuari Princess_."

In a few short steps, he was right in front of her, kissing her hand. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Ms. Durasha. How are you feeling? We tended to your head as best we could. Should it still ache, there are some pain relievers in that footlocker over there." He motioned to a light gray one with a large red design on the top.

"Oh, ah, thank you." Celia regained her rationality. "Could I have my blaster back, by the way?"

Imril's face fell. "Ah, well, there's the thing of it. Why don't you come up to the cockpit for a drink and tell me why you were speeding around in the Maelstrom in a Kuari Cruise Line robo barge?" he invited, a grin returning to his face. He motioned to the ladder, stepping to one side.

Hesitating, Celia narrowed her eyes. "How do I know I can trust you?" she retorted, her feeling of suspicion growing.

Adopting an injured expression, Imril sighed. "Oh, come now. If I had wanted to enslave you or torture you or even slit your exquisitely shaped throat, I would have saved the trouble and done it to you while you were recovering from the scrape on your skull. Besides," his eyes flicked down to her left boot momentarily. "I left that pretty toy of yours where it belongs, haven't I? Now stop being a huffy imperial bureaucrat and come along." He started to climb up the ladder.

"Imperial bureaucrat! Coming from an overdressed Wookiee, that's rich," sputtered Celia, reassured by the comforting weight of her dagger in her boot and giving in slightly to Imril's irrepressible manner. She was surprised when Imril stuck his head down out of the cockpit and grinned, winking at her.

When Celia could see the cockpit, she nearly fell off the ladder when she saw the imposing form of Hakky standing in the corner, the eyes in his triangular head glowing red. "What in the name of Sith is that!"

The eyes flickered as the assassin droid met her eyes. "Forced Polite Inquiry: I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"Hakky, make yourself useful and go organize the supplies or something like that," ordered Imril, flinging himself down in the pilot's seat and grabbing a bottle and two glasses. Grumbling, the rust-red droid reached down and grabbed Celia's hand, hauling her up the rest of the way and began to climb down the ladder himself.

The former navigator sat down gingerly in the copilot's seat, surprised to find that it was rather comfortable. She relaxed, accepting the glass of amber fluid that Imril handed to her, the smoky scent identifying it as a wine from Ord Mantell. As she took a sip and the warmth trickled down her throat, the worries and stress of the past few hours eased.

Tossing back his glassful as though it was water, Imril poured himself another tot and put his foot up on the console, looking like a crime lord surveying his riches from the comfort of his throne. Laconically, he sighed. "Will you look at that…"

Following his gaze, Celia looked out the viewport where the Maelstrom swirled around the ship, tendrils and ribbons of vermillion dancing across space. It was a sight not new to her, having made the journey through the nebula time and again on the cruise ship. "What about it?"

"Sometimes, you never realize how beautiful the universe can be until you have a glass of something stimulating, a ship rumbling under your boots, and life by the throat." A glint of satisfaction appeared in his eyes as he took another drink from his glass.

"Yes, I once thought that." Kaileel's words rose, unbidden, in Celia's mind. _From Mantooine, the Maelstrom Nebula appears to be but another speck in the universe. It is not until you are in the middle of it that you realize how vast it is. It is the same with the Empire._ Doubtless, the late security chief would have told Imril the same. No matter how pretty the stars looked when you sat around looking at them with a drink in your hand, there were people on them who suffered from the things you could fight against.

Pouring himself yet another drink and putting his other foot atop his first, Imril looked at her expectantly. "Well?" he said after a moment. "Tell me how you ended up in the nebula."

Setting down her half finished wine, Celia looked at him suspiciously. "I don't think so. I don't really trust you. The less you know about me, the less you have to answer for, later."

"My friend," began Imril, his voice durasteel, no sign of inebriation in the hard stare he gave her. "You were riding in a robo barge that normally is not piloted by a real being. There are traces of blood on your fancy toy in your boot. You did not deny that you are _former_ Lieutenant Navigator on the _Kuari Princess_. Your past can remain hidden from me, that's fine. I'll hand you over to the company or the Empire," here he was rewarded with a flinch from Celia. "for the bounty. It might torment me for awhile, wondering what you did, but in time, I'll have moved on." With a swift movement, he reached down and retrieved her glass and set it on the console.

Pale with anger, Celia felt betrayed. He had not treated her like any other bounty hunter would, having a drink with her and wanting to know what circumstances brought her to this point. She clenched her fists, emerald eyes glaring right back at Imril. Without warning, her hand shot down to her boot for her knife, intending to hold it against his throat and see how smug and commanding he would be then. Her fingers felt only an empty sheath.

Light gleamed on the stolen blade and sparkled on the gem over the hilt, as Imril twirled it skillfully in his fingers, still not looking away from her. The image of a mere pirate playing with the knife that Raine gave her made her throw aside her fear. She threw a quick punch at his face; he dodged and suddenly, a blaster was revealed in his free hand. She froze and Imril sighed, reaching out and shoving her back into her chair. "Are you done trying to kill me?"

Celia had never felt so helpless before and merely slumped in her chair, biting her lip. Imril sat back once more, simply looking at her. For some reason, she decided it was better to tell someone her story before the final chapter. Reluctantly, she blurted out, "You were right. That was blood on my dagger. On the _Kuari Princess_, I was best friends with the security chief, a Kabieroun by the name of Kaileel. We used to play Waroots and Farangs a lot. Anyway, it turns out on the last three planet stops, he had stolen some blasters from the security supplies and smuggled them to Rebel groups on the planets. On Mantooine, our last stop before going into the Maelstrom, one of our ship's new passengers was an Imperial Intelligence officer. He found out about Kaileel and threw him in the brig. I sprung him. That's when…" her voice trailed off, her eyes captivated on the dagger Imril continued to twirl. The pirate seemed to realize the trick was in bad taste and stopped. Celia continued, "There were two of them. Kaileel and I almost made it to the robo barge when the officer caught up with us and shot him. I wounded him and managed to escape. The rest you know."

Imril looked at her sitting hunched forward in the copilot's chair, staring dejectedly at her hands. He could tell it was the first time she had killed someone or had seen someone die. She looked to be a normal person, a law-abiding citizen. From Irmil's experience, people like that who ended up causing the death of others took their guilt extremely hard, sometimes turning into murderers who cared for nothing. "Don't you have any family you can turn to for help? Besides, if I did turn you over to the company, they'd probably give you a fair trial. As for the Imperials, you strike me as the kind of lady who comes from a family well embedded in society and of substantial influence."

He had said the wrong thing. Celia glared out the viewport. "Oh yes," she spat in disgust. "Back on Lankashiir, my father went out of his way to ensure I was protected. He even made sure my application to the Imperial Academy was turned down so I wouldn't plague the Imperial Navy with my inferior feminine thinking. Probably, he'd say I deserved this for trying to leave Lankashiir and strike out on my own." Her outburst finished, she sighed. "Imperial Intelligence is not one to cross, anyway. Especially not with the Isards in there."

At the mention of the name, Imril choked on his drink. "You know," he managed between coughs. "Ysanne Isard?"

Judging by his reaction, there was a story involved. Celia's curiosity overcame her trepidation and cocked her head, asking innocently, "Why? Do you?"

Imril gave a hollow laugh, settling back in his seat. "Not personally, but I saw her once, back in – " he stopped and gave her a suspicious glance. "Wait a minute. You trying to weasel information from me?" A crafty smile lit his face. "I suppose I might be persuaded to tell you a story…for a price. Can you cook?"

Taken aback, Celia nodded. Her mother had taught her back on Lankashiir and she had often gone hunting with her brothers and done the cooking for them then. Imril nodded in approval and continued, "Well, then. Hakky and I liberated a store of nerf steaks from a local restaurant on the last planet." The pirate pulled a wry face. "Unfortunately, neither of us can cook very well, though I can make a rather palatable hubba gourd stew."

It was ridiculous. Celia should have been trying to think of a way to escape, but couldn't possibly think of leaving until she had found out where Imril had met Ysanne Isard. She followed the pirate down into the hold, where he rummaged around and produced a small field cooking unit and some steaks that were so large, the burner could hold one at a time alone. As she cooked them, Imril made himself useful, throwing the contents of a green salad together with all the aplomb of a Coruscant gourmet chef.

Hakky watched from the shadows, the blaster rifle still in his hands. "Statement: Master Imril, the Nebula gases are safely contained within the robo barge. I suggest that we detach from the ship in order to reengage our engines."

"Do that, would you, Hakky? By the way, what is the maximum capacity of the barge?"

"Statement: By my thorough calculations, we have collected four thousand tons of gas. Compressed, that would be more that we had originally hoped to collect on this trip." The assassin droid turned and clanked up the ladder, his joints squeaking.

"Thank the Force for wacky scientists and beautiful women hijackers, then." Imril turned back to his work, whistling cheerfully at the thought of all those credits they were due to receive. He caught Celia's questioning look and shrugged. "We borrowed your vessel for a bit, Lady. Hope you don't mind. There's a scientist on Nar Shaddaa who wants some of the Maelstrom gas for a project backed by the Hutts. Apparently, he thinks he can compress the gas into a solid form, combine it with durasteel, and make ship armor that will render any ship covered in it invisible to sensors."

"And they actually told you this?" Celia frowned, flipping over a steak. "That seems rather free of the Hutts, to entrust the information to a merc."

"They didn't – Hakky sliced into the laboratory mainframe." With a final flourish, the pirate finished the salad. "If they knew I knew, I'd probably be on the bounty lists." He passed her a plate and she set a steak on it. Flicking a wrist, a vibroshiv slid out of his sleeve into his hands; expertly, he sliced off a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. As he chewed, his blue eyes rolled in evident rapture. "Oh, Lady," he groaned dramatically. "Grasp thy blade and slay me now, for I know that in this life I will never taste anything better than this delicate piece of starfruit. Verily will I die in peace."

"Give me back my dagger and I shall oblige," Celia needled sweetly, putting on anther steak. "You're very strange for a bounty hunter. Somehow I can't imagine Boba Fett allowing his bounties to cook steak for him, or drink with him in the cockpit."

"Oh, I dunno." Eagerly, Imril sliced off another piece of meat and devoured it. "Anyone who can cook like this doesn't deserve to be handed over to the imps. I'm sorry but no matter how much you insist, I'll be dropping you off on the nearest planet."

Bemusedly, the former navigator shot him a glance. "I was right – you _are_ an overdressed Wookiee, always thinking with your stomach. But," she turned serious, a small hope burning inside her. "Do you really mean it?"

"Of course."

"Just like that?" Celia was skeptical.

Taking a deep breath, Imril regretfully put down his steak and raised his fist to his heart. "Upon my honor as a thoroughly disreputable scoundrel, a roguishly handsome pirate, and a happy-go-lucky soldier of the stars, I shall not turn you into the agents of the Almighty Emperor, may crazed Ewoks roast his evil backside," he promised, his face serious. "Besides," he began wolfing down his steak again. "Whatever the bounty is, it probably wouldn't get me a steak this good in any fancy restaurant in the palace district of Coruscant."

"Thanks." Celia sat down on a nearby footlocker, her own steak and salad on a plate balanced on her lap. She shifted her foot so that her knife didn't dig into her leg so much. Then, she realized that it was back in her sheath and pulled it out, staring at it in confusion. "How did you do that?" she asked.

"It's easy enough. When I was growing up, I often did that sort of thing for fun," replied the pirate dismissively, finishing his meal and brushing his lips off. He dug into another container and pulled out two small bottles of Elba water, passing one to her and sitting at her side.

"So, are you going to tell me about Isard, now?"

"Oh, please," groaned Imril, taking a sip. "You don't want to hear about the experiences of a first lieutenant of the Imperial navy, do you?"

"You were in the Imperial Navy!" exclaimed Celia. "Where were you stationed? Did something happen that made you desert?"

Imril held up a finger, cutting short her flow of questions. "I thought I was going to tell you about Isard. Why I left is another story. Now," he took another drink and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling as he continued. "I was on the ship _The Termination_, a Victory class Star Destroyer. As it happens, we were carrying a passenger to Coruscant, a rather cheerful and lively person by the name of Darth Vader."

"You were on the same ship as the Dark Lord?"

Imril closed his eyes patiently. "Yes, Ms. Durasha. That's what I said, Ms. Durasha. Kindly stop interrupting, Ms. Durasha. As it was, I was one of the few under officers allowed to be on the bridge due to my remarkable piloting skills. The captain, one who prided himself on finding talent, let me observe the bridge crew at work. I was very close, he said, to becoming a flight officer myself, and that I might as well familiarize myself with the bridge of a ship as soon as possible." He opened his eyes once more, staring off into the distance, the drink in his hand forgotten. "We had just entered the system when we were contacted by a shuttle with orders to allow it to dock. Who should come strutting aboard but Ysanne Isard, recently indoctrinated into Imperial Intelligence and demanding that the Star Destroyer be placed under her command."

His listener raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in her emerald eyes. "Vader had a fit?"

Shuddering, Imril remembered his drink and took a pull. "You could practically feel the Hoth winds that his words created when he came up to the bridge and confronted Isard. I'll say one thing for that lady, though: she had guts. She didn't back down, glaring into those eyes on Vader's mask and flourishing her orders like a lightsaber. Then, she turned to me, of all people. I can still remember it – her fiery red eye and her Hoth-colored blue one staring down into the crew pit at me. By that point, she was ready to take out her aggression and flaunt her new authority on someone. She said to me, 'Soldier, you went to the academy – tell Lord Vader what he should do when he is presented with orders to fulfill.'" He took a bigger gulp from his drink at the memory.

"Well?" pressed Celia, the story getting to her. She could tell he was enjoying telling it as much as she was enjoying hearing it.

"So, of course now, Vader himself is staring at me and I'm stuck between the charging bantha and the cliff. His unseen gaze isn't much better than Isard's, rather worse actually. 'Lieutenant?' he rumbles dangerously. 'How should we solve this?' I was seriously considering volunteering for an Outer Rim assignment by that time, let me tell you. Figuring no matter what I would say would land me in somebody's bad book, I blurted the first thing that came to mind." Looking down at his bottle, Imril fell silent.

Impatiently, Celia fidgeted, her meal only half-finished.

Imril spoke up again, still examining the label on the bottle. "I think I shall talk to Hakky about using the sonic cleaner down here. It seems to affect the taste of the booze."

"Imril!" Without thinking, Celia whacked him on the arm like she had done so many times with Raine when her twin brother was teasing her. "What did you say to Vader and Isard!"

"What? Oh." Imril raised the bottle to his lips as he finished. "'Hydrospanners at fifty paces.'"

For a moment, Celia was silent. Then, she snorted, a grin creeping across her face. The snort became a full-fledged laugh. Imril joined her, their amusement making the cargo hold echo and Hakky come clanking down the ladder to see what the joke was. Celia leaned helplessly against Imril's shoulder, still giggling uncontrollably. It felt good to laugh again.

For Imril, it was nice to have someone to laugh with. In addition to that, her weight and head on his shoulder awoke in him a feeling he had not had for a long time. The last time he had talked to anyone so freely was his little sister a few short weeks before he entered the Academy. Their laughter faded, yet Celia did not move, her head still resting on his shoulder. Imril felt her shaking and looked to see her crying silently, not from mirth. Memories flashed through his mind, ones of his own sister weeping as she did now. Gently, ready to pull away if she stiffened, Imril put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting hug. "And here was old fool me, thinking that that story was funny," he whispered.

Her tears ran crystalline down his black leather jacket as she sniffed. "I'm sorry," she apologized, feeling incredibly stupid for crying on the shoulder of a guy she had just met. A memory of Adion flashed in her mind, the last man who had held her…and the man who had killed her best friend. Yet, the thought was replaced with one of Raine and how, one day, when she was seven, she had fallen down and scraped her knee. She had cried then, too, but then, her twin brother had walked over and given her a hug to make her feel better. Slowly, her arm encircled him, returning his embrace. "Thank you for telling me. Don't worry; it was funny. Just…the last time I laughed was with Kaileel. So, naturally, I thought about him."

"Did you love him?" asked Imril softly.

Celia smiled wanly and shook her head. "No, he was merely a good friend. We respected one another immensely and kept our eyes out for each other. He'd call me 'crimson' and I'd call him 'chief.'"

"Unless he beat you at Waroots and Farangs. Then, you called him several other things, right?"

Chuckling, Celia looked up at his grinning face."Something like that. He was almost like my twin brother in that regard. Raine would do the most infuriating things, I'd get upset, and we'd have a verbal sparring session. It's funny though – there was no one else that close to me. Like the rest of my brothers, he joined the Imperial Navy" She sighed wistfully, shifting to a more comfortable position. "Right before all this happened, I had found out that he'd been killed in a spaceport on Ralltiir. Some Rebel ambush."

"I'm sorry." Imril sounded like he meant it, his voice compassionate and low. "If he was anything like you, I would have been insanely jealous of his good looks. As for friendship, your brother and you remind me of my little sister and I.

"When my older sister went off to Coruscant to study at a fancy school, I got to really know Katira. During our younger years, we couldn't stand one another and used to fight all the time. Selana's absence caused us to rely on each other more for sibling companionship." He snorted as the memories rolled past. "We got into all kinds of mischief. She was the one who wanted me to become an actor because I was always making her laugh. When she found out I wanted to go to the Imperial Academy, she blew up at me, saying that I was wasting my talent. I ignored her and left without apologizing. The rest of my family wasn't too happy about my decision either but they supported me. Surprisingly, I managed to graduate from the Academy early, my intelligence being above average, supposedly. After two years of active duty, I was finally granted leave. I contacted home, only to hear that she had been killed a few days before."

Bitterly, Imril gave Celia a half smile. "She was in a cantina when two off duty stormtroopers tried to score one off her, shall we say. They shot her after she told them what to do with their blasters." Despite the hatred in his voice, his face remained expressionless, save for the ice in his eyes. Imril looked away, sighing. "Of course, CorSec couldn't do anything. Those two murderers were part of the 501st, untouchable. I heard about how they were disciplined by being sent to Tatooine to serve the garrison there for two months, then rejoin the battalion."

He looked down at his hand, tightening it into a fist. His next words spoken in a distant tone, as though he had detached himself from his surroundings. "I resigned my commission, furious with the Empire and its warped sense of justice. Then," Regaining his dramatic manner, Imril finished, "The sands of Tatooine swallowed two more souls forever."

_So,_ thought Celia as he fell silent once again. _We have a lot more in common than I thought. All that drama and pirate bearing is just a front. Like me, he's suffered loss and reacted to it. Yet, he threw away a career in the Navy, just for revenge. What kind of person does that? Me?_

Slowly, Imril released her and stood up, stretching. HK-47 spoke up. "Statement: Master, I have plotted our course out of the Maelstrom Nebula. By my calculations based on our approximate location, we should be reaching the edge in 7.4 hours."

"Good." The Corellian glanced down at Celia. "If you're tired, feel free to use the bed roll over there. I'll be up in the cockpit. Was there a particular planet you wanted to go to?"

Celia shrugged tiredly. "I don't really know. I guess Nar Shaddaa seems like as good a place as any for my fugitive life to begin. Besides, I've always wanted to see what it's like. My father used to rant and rave about the place, saying that the Empire should destroy it once and for all and clean up all the smugglers and scoundrels there."

"All right, then." Imril turned and began to climb up the ladder. He hesitated and looked back. "By the way, I didn't want you to think I was taking advantage of you just now. I realize you've been through a lot and I was less than sympathetic at first. For that, I apologize."

"It's fine," dismissed Celia. "I should apologize too. I'm sorry for being so clingy." She blushed and dropped her eyes, noticing how rumpled her white uniform was from her recent escapades. Tugging on her collar, she attempted to straighten some of the creases.

Imril noticed and appeared to think for a moment. "If you want a change of clothing, there should be some in that container over there, the one marked _Moon Grandeur._" He disappeared up the ladder before she could reply.

Opening the indicated crate, her breath was stolen away as she beheld a beautiful light violet silken dress, golden threads cunningly woven into the fabric so that it shimmered in the light as she picked it up. It was off one shoulder and looked to be of Coruscant manufacture, a piece of clothing that simply screamed "Expensive." Celia examined it critically and shook her head, not caring to walk into Nar Shaddaa wearing something that eye-catching. Underneath the dress, there was regular men's clothing. She settled for a plain white shirt, black pants, and a forest green tunic. Ducking into the tiny refresher, she changed. A pilot's jacket hung from a small hook. On impulse, she tried it on and was surprised when it fit perfectly. Running her fingers over the black leather and silver studs on the collar lapel, she noticed a name sewn into the inside of the coat. _Katira._

Reluctantly, she took it off and hung it back on the hook. Celia glanced into the mirror and winced. A large purple bruise decorated her forehead and she brushed her bangs over it. Taking a small ring from her uniform pocket, she pulled her long crimson hair out of her braids and into a simple ponytail, the silver ring holding it in place. Looking into the mirror again, she examined herself critically and nodded. _Not bad, girl. You might just make a smuggler yet._ Exiting the refresher, she folded her uniform and laid it on a nearby container.

A/N: Read, review, constructive criticism if possible, meaning tell WHY you hate it if you do...


	3. Part 3

Disclaimer: Lemme check…ow. By the way they shouted "NO!", I guess I still don't own Star Wars or A Certain Point of View

Up in the cockpit, Imril absently checked the ship, making sure the slave controller was active. Due to the interference the nebula caused, the robo barge had to fly uncomfortably close to the _Dustman_. Though he had linked the two ships' controls, the barge had slower engines than his own ship and he had to be careful when turning lest he smash into it.

He sat back, foot automatically going up to rest on the console, and began to think. Thoughts of Celia entered his mind and Imril's eyes came to rest on the empty copilot's chair. Ever since the _Dustman_ had entered his possession, no one had sat down there. For some odd reason, Hakky's joints clogged frequently and rather than risk him being stuck there, the droid usually remained in a standing position behind Imril as he flew the ship. Besides his astronavigation skills, Hakky really didn't do much with flying the ship anyway, being only a mediocre pilot and gunner. Imril wondered if Celia knew how to copilot. However, he quashed that idea almost immediately – she'd probably want to lie low when they got to Nar Shaddaa. Furthermore, she probably wouldn't take to the idea of gallivanting around the galaxy, living out of a holster and from job to job. He sighed, still unable to get the picture of her in the copilot's chair out of his mind.

So absorbed was he in the image that he didn't hear Celia come up the ladder and jumped when she put her hand on his shoulder. He turned to find her clad in the green tunic, its color accentuating the fieriness of her hair and bright eyes. The clothes showed her to be shapely and delicate but not so much to show all, merely suggesting her beauty. No dancer in slight costume could have been more beautiful than she was to Imril's mind. "Ah, what vision of beauty has brightened my life?" he teased, winking at her. "You look very pretty, Lady Durasha."

Celia slid into the copilot's seat, blushing at his comment. "Thanks for the loan of the clothes. By the way, you can call me Celia"

"Consider them yours a down payment for the use of your barge."

"Now that I think about it, I probably wouldn't get very far in a stolen ship, especially one associated with a wanted person, so consider the debt paid. You can probably claim it as salvage. If any bounty hunter sees your ship with the other in tow, they'll just assume you captured me."

"Good thinking." Imril reached into a small compartment and pulled out her blaster, handing it to her. "You're starting to think like a smuggler. You also didn't wear that dress, which is another good thing. You don't want to attract too much attention."

Celia holstered her blaster, comforted by the weight. "So, what happened after your incident with Vader and Isard? You didn't finish the story."

"Ah, yes." Imril nodded, grinning at the memory. "Fate must favor poor junior officers in hotspots because the moment the retort came from my mouth, the bridge became dead silent as quick as that." He snapped his fingers. "I could feel the eyes of everyone on me and I figured I was a goner. Goodbye dreams of captaining a Star Destroyer. Goodbye hopes of living the rest of my life with all limbs intact. But like I said before, fate was kind, even extreme." Looking over at her, Imril nodded slowly. "Vader started to laugh. Not the forced chuckle or the grim laughter of a man about to kill another, but genuine laughter that caused his respirator to crackle. Isard didn't appreciate the joke, of course, and stormed off the bridge. After that, I was known for a while throughout the fleet as 'the man who made Darth Vader laugh.' Fellow soldiers used to buy me drinks in bars, demanding that I tell them the story."

"Bet you loved that."

Throwing her a mischievous smile, he waggled his eyebrows comically. "Of course. Wouldn't you?"

They continued to talk for the next seven hours, trading stories. Celia recounted her experiences on the _Kuari Princess_, the passengers she had met, and some of the strange things that had happened on the passenger ship. Imril told her some more of his military stories and of the strange planets on the outer rim he had been on. More than a few of them, she didn't quite believe. "That's ridiculous!" she exploded at one point. "How could anyone crash an escape pod into the command deck of a Star Destroyer and take the captain hostage?!"

"My dear lady Durasha, the musician has his secret songs that he plays, the gambler has his instinct upon which he relies, the magician has his tricks of the trade. Therefore, a pirate like me must have a few special skills of his own. I just happened to be cursed with incredibly good fortune." Appearing to think it over, Imril corrected himself. "Well, half the time. But take now, for example. I go into the Maelstrom and find a ship to carry more of the gas in, along with a beautiful lady who can cook nerf steak. How luckier can you get?"

The grin on his face was infectious and she couldn't help but return it, shaking her head in amusement.

A low tone from the console caused Imril to sit up. "Ah. We're approaching the end of the Maelstrom. Once we are out, it's hyperspace and then, to Nar Shaddaa where the food is best in the Corellian sector, the fights are fierce in We'ryy's cantina, and you can buy the Emperor's datapad from any stinking rodian on the street." Ahead of the ship, the red curtain of the Maelstrom faded and rolled back to reveal the star-studded expanse of space.

Relief flooded through Celia, the sudden change from red to black welcome. Red had been the reminder of Adion's blood as she had slashed his arm to force him to release her. It also haunted her, the color of the bolt that had pierced Kaileel and taken a good friend from her life.

The sensors blipped warningly. Imril reached over and adjusted them. What he saw caused him to mutter something nasty under his breath. He met her eyes, looking grim. "Imperial Star Destroyer. Approaching fast with another vessel. Looks like your Imperial Intelligence friend managed to get the call out."

"Not only that." Celia felt her heart sink as she recognized the second ship. "He managed to convince the captain of the _'Princess_ to pull out of the Nebula early." The communications array lit up, signifying an incoming transmission. Imril punched the receive button.

"Acting Captain Adion Lang of the _Kuari Princess_ to captain in charge of the freighter _Dustman_: you have in tow a robotic barge stolen from this ship by a fugitive from Imperial justice. Prepare to be boarded for questioning."

Hearing his voice made Celia flush with fury. If he so much as hurt any other friend of hers on that ship to commandeer it… Her resolve made her come to a decision and she turned to look at Imril. "You won't be able to get out of their tractor beam range in time. If you tell them you have me and you hand me over to them along with the barge, you can get away. They'll probably even give you credits like you said before."

A strange look came over Imril as he gazed back at her. He thought for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "All right," he replied. "Have it your way." He contacted the _Princess_. "Lang, this is Captain D'Var of the _Dustman._ I captured the barge along with an extremely gorgeous woman named Celia Durasha. What is she worth to you?" he asked coldly. As serious as this was, Celia couldn't help notice the "extremely gorgeous" bit and crack a smile.

Adion's voice crackled back. "Thirty thousand credits from the Empire as well as five thousand from the Kuari Cruise Line for the recovery of their barge."

Imril allowed a pleased tone enter his voice as he acknowledged. "You've got yourself a deal, Lang. Where should I drop off the lady?" Adion directed him toward a docking bridge on the Imperial ship. The Star Destroyer loomed directly overhead now, an imposing view of death-gray. Celia began to feel the first tremors of fear at the thought of the horrors that awaited her on board. Still, as she glanced at the pirate next to her, she remembered Raine and how he had died so far away while she had been able to do nothing to help. Knowing she had to do something for the man who had treated her kindly, she reluctantly unbuckled her blaster and set it on the console. The small thunk seemed to echo in the silence of the cockpit. Even more deliberately, she drew the dagger and looked at it one last time, rubbing the ebon handle, tracing the crimson jewel set in the blade. Biting her lip, Celia held it out to Imril. Slowly, he took it from her trembling hands. "I don't want those Imps to have it," she murmured.

Looking ahead at the approaching docking bay, Imril didn't move, the strange look in his eyes once more. "Celia…" he said, using her name for the first time. "If you were handed over to the Imps, what would the galaxy do without your excellent cooking?"

Not believing she had heard him right, she cocked her head, a puzzled look on her face. Another smile appeared on Imril's face, a gentle one that held no mischief. In answer to her look, he reached out a hand and punched a button on the slave controller for the robo barge. Without further warning, he yanked the controls so that the _Dustman_ dove down and away from the barge and the docking bay. Having disengaged the synchronized controls from the slave circuit, he no longer had the robo barge following behind. Ignoring the incoming transmission from the Star Destroyer, the pirate stabbed another button on the controller.

A blinding flash lit space behind the fleeing pirate freighter as the robo barge self-destructed, spewing Nebula gas everywhere and enshrouding the bottom of the Imperial ship. The shockwave caught up with them, causing the _Dustman_ to shiver and buck. Grimly, Imril rode it out, barking at Celia. "Punch up a route to Nar Shaddaa right now! That smoke screen won't blind their sensors forever."

The commanding tone caused her hands to override her shock at what the pirate had done. Her mind had never worked so fast, sudden adrenaline lending speed to her fingers and thoughts. The Star Destroyer had penetrated the cloud of gas and was gaining fast when she completed her calculations and nodded once to Imril. The pirate needed to second bidding, yanking back on the hyperspace levers.

For a moment, the _Dustman_ froze, then shot forward in a flash of hyperdrive engines and was gone.

A/N: Read and review, please. Any flames will be used for hot dog roasting.


	4. Part 4 The End or the Beginning

A/N: Yes, this is the end

Repulsors venting off steam, the _Dustman_ settled on the landing pad. The Corellian sector of Nar Shaddaa was as crowded and as busy as ever. Imril started the post-flight check, ignoring the staticky mutterings of Hakky. The assassin droid was still moaning over the loss of the Nebula gas and complaining that the credits could have at least bought him a lubricant bath. Fresh in his mind, the look of utter astonishment on Celia's face came to him once again. The memory would be another fond one in his collection.

_"Why did you do it?!" she demanded, her green eyes incredulous. It was five minutes after the Dustman escaped. There had been no interruption of the silence that the two shared after the ordeal. Imril, surprised at his own actions as much as Celia, avoided her gaze. The loss of the adaptable slave circuit didn't bother him that much; Hakky had the plans inside his head somewhere._

_"Why did you do it?" Celia repeated, more quietly. "You could have turned me over. You said as much. You could have got off scot-free, with thirty-five thousand credits and your shipment of Nebula gas."_

_"Katira."_

It was all he said, but understanding hit her like a blaster bolt. The simple answer was enough. From his silence, it seemed as though he wished to be alone and Celia decided to respect his unspoken wish, staying in the cargo hold for the remainder of their journey to Nar Shaddaa.

Finishing his check, he leaned back in the chair and stretched. Yawning, he got up and slouched over to the ladder and climbed down. The boarding ramp was already extended and Imril strolled down it. Celia was looking up at the tail of the _Dustman_ with some concern. The collision with the robo barge left a long scratch upon it. Imril stood next to her and looked at it, scratching his beard with a lazy finger.

"Looks like that's going to take some paint," commented Celia, looking up at him.

"Guess so." Imril reached a long arm up and ran his hand over the dent. Abruptly, he turned to her. "Celia…"

Her green eyes stared softly up into his. Losing his nerve, the pirate coughed and looked away. "What will you do now?" he asked hastily.

"I don't really know. I thought about heading down into the shadier parts and offering my services as a navigator on a smuggler freighter or something," replied Celia, looking away. She sighed, running a hand over her red hair. "I suppose I should dye my hair and cut it shorter. Might make it less easy for Boba Fett to come gunning for me." Tentatively, she looked at him again. "The _Dustman _doesn't need a navigator, right?"

"No," blurted Imril, a little too quickly. He was really avoiding her gaze now, seemingly interested in a pair of Rodians arguing with a Duros over the proper handling of a shipping crate across the bay. Nevertheless, he realized he had been rude and scrambled to explain himself. "Uh, Hakky usually does that sort of thing."

"Oh." Her reply was matter-of-fact. "Then, I guess this is good-bye."

"Guess so," Imril said again, dragging his eyes around to meet her gaze again.

Celia searched his face for that strange look but was disappointed by its absence. Still, she managed a smile and moved closer, standing on her toes and planting a kiss on his cheek. Momentarily frozen, Imril recovered and gave her a hug, squeezing her small frame gently. They broke apart and Celia turned away, slinging her rucksack over her shoulder and walking to the exit of the bay. Behind her, Imril looked down at his fingers in satisfaction. Once again, they had not failed him, planting the three hundred credit chip into the pocket of her tunic without her noticing. He looked up again just in time to see her turn and wave. Then, she was gone.

There was squeaking behind him and Hakky's voice intruded into Imril's thoughts. "Advisement: Now, master, you know that love to me has always been staring down the scope of a Merrsonn missile launcher at an enemy bunker and I know that this might not be how an meatbag would define it, but…"

"Good. Keep it that way," snapped Imril, eyes still on the crowd into which she faded. _What is this strange feeling? At first, I looked at her and I saw Katira. I wanted to protect her, hoping that it would somehow make up for when I wasn't there for Katira. But now…I see her as Celia. She seems strong, yet so vulnerable. I want to see her again. I don't want her to go. What was the point of saving her if I'll never see her again?_ "Hakky," he said aloud, rubbing his temples gently. "I shall be going to see a man about a late Nebula gas shipment after which I shall be getting quietly drunk." With that, he left Hakky standing by the ship, the droid contemplating humans and the happy fact that he was not among them.

True to his word, ten minutes after he stormed out of the major-domo's office, Imril was in a small tavern, sipping his third Corellian ale. He disconsolately stared into the mug, his chin in his hand, wondering why he even bothered dealing with Hutts anyway. Sighing, he closed his eyes.

He heard someone slide onto the barstool next to him and didn't bother opening his eyes. "You," he said, jerking his thumb in their general direction. "Don't ever deal with Hutts. Every time someone tries to suck up to them and offer to invent something for them, that same stupid nerf-herder has to go and insult the slugs at some point and get himself executed. The thing with this is that the other people who run everywhere fetching everything for the madcap scheme don't get paid because of it. It's totally inconsiderate." He took a swig from his mug and winced as the smooth liquid flamed his throat sweetly. "Atop that, the nerf-herders aren't the only ones stupid. The errand boys have to go and say the wrong thing accidentally and drive off any interesting, exotic ladies they meet on the way."

Whoever it was sighed and asked, "Do you ever think you'll need a human navigator for your ship?"

Relief, sweet relief, burst in the pirate's mind and he fought to keep his face straight. "Not at the moment." He slowly opened his eyes and turned his head to meet the other's gaze. "But in five minutes, I'm going to be deleting a certain droid's astrogation programs from his memory core. Then, I shall be in desperate need of one."

Celia's viridian eyes sparkled, a grin on her face, her pony-tail flaming red against her green tunic. To Imril, there could be no one in the galaxy more beautiful than she. He returned her smile, reaching out and stroking her cheek gently, moving his hand farther to touch her fiery hair. Then, right in front of the bemused bartender, the pirate leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on her mouth, his passion stealing her breath away.

It was the first time the bartender had seen Imril leave a glass half-empty.

A/N: This Inunotaisho would very much like a review or he won't leave you his swords.


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